So. About me.
People are gonna wonder why I started writing. What was the "thing" that did it to me, turned on the switch, sent me rushing down this tube like a water slide.
It was the pilgrims.
Seriously, when I was in grade school, our teacher made us write something about the pilgrims, for Thanksgiving. For my non-US friends, that is the big holiday here where we celebrate our nation's birth by cooking huge meals and watching football.
I was a pretty fine writer even then, and this little story even got the illustration treatment.
I still have it somewhere, due to the fact that my mother never threw anything away if her offspring produced it. Well, okay, maybe she tossed some stuff! I don't recall seeing anything made from macaroni when I cleaned out the house, and we all know no kid makes it through elementary school without something made from macaroni or sand.
My mom has passed away now but she kept a lot and I have kept it since her leaving us. I use a dustpan my brother made in shop in high school. Why he would make one out of METAL is beyond me, but the thing is indestructable and I still have it.
So, there ya have it, the why I am a writer essay
